


No Need to Ask

by Anonymous



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Crying, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jon might be ooc but honestly I just wanted to make him all blushy and upset so idc, M/M, Martin is a good boyfriend and Jon needs a hug, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Omorashi, Showers, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:47:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29569842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jon has a problem. But he's an adult, he can handle it.ORSome nonsexual omo in which Jon does not have a good time, but Martin is there to help make everything better :]
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49
Collections: Anonymous





	No Need to Ask

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags before reading this. If omorashi isn't your thing, then this isn't for you.

Jon is vaguely aware that he's being nudged awake. Contrary to popular belief, he is _not_ a morning person, and Martin has had to essentially drag him out of bed on many occasions. He could already tell today was going to be a slow climb towards full consciousness.

With a groan, he pries his eyes open and looks up at Martin, who is leaning over him and appears to be moments away from placing his hand on Jon's shoulder and giving him another shake. Martin gives him a small smile.

"Sorry, I know you don't like being woken up, but well... I've already finished making breakfast and I don't want it getting cold." Martin explains. Jon slowly sits himself up in bed, cringing slightly at the pop of his joints as he stretches his arms. He crawls out of bed, swaying slightly, and stretches once more for good measure. He stumbles out of the bedroom, Martin tailing behind and keeping an eye on Jon in case his weariness got to be too much and he collapsed. Martin had learned all too quickly just how common that was.

The two settle in the kitchen. Jon scans the plate that sits in front of him: an omelet, bacon, and a croissant. Perhaps not the most extravagant of breakfasts, but it was more than enough for Jon. Firstly, however, Jon took a sip of his tea. He lets out a content sigh. Tea always helps him wake up.

As consciousness creeps into his muscles, so too does another feeling. One far more uncomfortable.

A heaviness sits in his lower abdomen, tight and painful. How had he not noticed that? He tries not to squirm, the feeling in his bladder already far too pressing for him to sit comfortably. 

Normally, if he didn't use the bathroom as soon as he awoke, the feeling would usually make itself known as Martin was preparing breakfast, and he had no issue with quickly excusing himself to take care of it. But, Jon supposed, there hadn't really been the time for that this morning. He knew he could, technically, excuse himself now. But sudden memories of his childhood held him back from doing so.

He remembered many occasions during meals with his grandmother where he had asked if he could be excused so he could use the bathroom, which had always resulted in her grimacing and scolding him about how it was rude to leave the table before finishing his food. Jon would nod, and continue eating, but it never stopped him from asking again the next time.

And it was probably a more common problem than it should have been. Jon was a focused child, and it wasn't uncommon for him to be dragged away from a book he had been reading for hours on end, forced to join a meal and only then realizing that he had been neglecting his bladder the entire time. This excuse did not gain sympathy from his grandmother. If anything, it made her scolding worse.

"Maybe this will teach you to go before meals." She would say, but he never learned.

So Jon couldn't leave. That was fine. He was an adult, he could hold it. Although as the thought passed through his mind, he didn't feel as confident in it as he had hoped. He'd had his fair share of accidents, an embarrassing amount of which had been long past his childhood.

Of course, he'd certainly had a few as child, quite a few of which had been a result of his grandmothers rule. She was never sympathetic. He was always in charge of cleaning up his own mess, his grandmother refusing to do so for him. Those, however mortifying, were far from the worst in his memory. He had been a child, after all, and children have accidents. 

But other times still stuck out in his mind. He thought back to living with Georgie, sitting on her couch and absorbed in a book he hadn't actually expected to be so interested in. He hadn't even felt the pressure in his bladder until he finished the book and immediately felt a jolt of desperation. He had been so caught off guard that he hadn't even had the chance to hold himself before he was wetting himself on Georgie's couch. Explaining to her what had happened had been quite possibly one of the most embarrassing moments of his life, but she was sympathetic enough, and handled the cleanup for him. Still, she never let him live it down, and had no qualms with teasing him about it. He didn't have the heart to tell her just how insecure he was about this problem of his, as that would involve telling her that it hadn't just been a one-time thing. Besides, he deserved the teasing, didn't he? 

Jon shook himself out of that train of thought. Thinking about those situations certainly wasn't going to help him now. He focused on his breakfast and tried his best not to squirm, barely blocking out his grandmothers demands that he sit still.

He was thankful that Martin was unlikely to pick up on anything being wrong. It wasn't uncommon for them to have silent breakfasts, given that Jon was usually still waking up. And if Jon seemed off, that was explained away just as easily. He was tired, that was all.

He hoped Martin wasn't paying too close attention, however. Jon was most definitely shifting in his seat, despite his efforts to stay still. It wasn't exactly the behavior of someone just waking up. If anything, he was restless, and could only hope Martin couldn't tell.

He hoped Martin couldn't see his blush, either. His face was hot, both with embarrassment and the effort to hold back his full bladder. Although his skin was too dark for it to be noticeable to most people, Martin had become all too skilled at recognizing when Jon is flustered. He lets out a shakey sigh and crosses his legs tightly, taking a few more hesitant bites of his food.

Jon was full, both his stomach and bladder telling him they had gone beyond a comfortable capacity. Ordinarily, he would just stop eating. He had never had a huge appetite, and although it had taken time and coaxing, Martin had eventually convinced Jon that it was okay for him to not finish every meal if he didn't want to. But this time, despite being full, he kept eating.

_You're not allowed to go until you finish your food._ He reminds himself.

Jon must be acting off, because Martin gives him an odd look. 

"Jon?" Martin's looking at him with a strange sort of concern. "Love, we've been over this, you don't have to eat everything." But Jon just shakes his head.

"I want to." Jon lies, and he takes another bite. Martin doesn't respond, just goes back to his own food and keeps an eye on Jon.

But Jon really doesn't want to keep eating. He's painfully full and feels like he may wet himself at any second. But he can't leave. That would be rude. Martin would be upset, and Jon couldn't have that. He could hold it just a little longer.

He grips the edge of the table with his free hand, the only way he can keep himself from shoving it between his legs. That would be horribly inappropriate, after all. He bites his lip so hard he's worried it may bleed, but he can't be bothered to care when it's the only thing holding back embarrassing whines and whimpers that would convey in humiliating clarity just how desperate he is. He's vaguely aware that his eyes are stinging with tears, but it's barely noticeable compared to the sharp pain in his lower abdomen.

Amazingly, he keeps himself quiet when a small leak escapes him. He can't seem keep himself from squirming more, as it's the only way he can regain control, but Martin doesn't notice. That's good, Jon thinks.

The second leak is too much. It starts off small enough that Jon is convinced he can regain control quickly. But after a moment he realizes he can't, and he lets out a small gasp. This seems to get Martin's attention, and he doesn't have time to think about how Martin's attention is the last thing he wants right now.

Jon drops his fork and shoves both hands between his thighs, desperately trying to regain control over his bladder. "No no no no no..." He mumbles, over and over, his voice wavering. Martin doesn't seem to catch on to what's happening until he hears the small pitter patter of liquid hitting the linoleum floor.

"Oh Jon..."

Jon let's out what he intended as a sigh, though it comes out as more of a watery sob, and removes his hands from between his legs. He still can't quite find it in him to let go at full force, his muscles still clenched and releasing the contents of his bladder at an agonizingly slow pace. He can't hold back the pitiful whimpers that escape him however, and he's almost definitely crying at this point.

Then, Martin stands, and moves towards him. Why would he do that? Jon was disgusting and immature and still very much wetting himself in their kitchen, and Martin should want nothing to do with him. But still, Martin moves over to him, standing behind Jon's chair and resting one hand on Jon's shoulder, while the other cards through his messy hair.

"It's okay, love. Just relax, it's alright." Martin says, impossibly soft.

This does something to Jon, evidently, as his muscles relax and he finally lets go fully. He's whimpering loudly now, some mix between humiliation and relief. Martin just mumbles comforting nonsense.

Jon isn't sure how long it takes before his bladder empties and the stream tapers off, but if certainly felt like an eternity. As the euphoric relief melts away, Jon is left only with the mortifying fact that he just wet himself in front of Martin. If he had any strength left, maybe he would've held back the sobs that were building in his chest and creeping up his throat. But his accident has left him feeling practically boneless, and the sobs rip through him effortlessly.

Martin shifted his position, carefully navigating around Jon's mess. He settles on standing to Jon's side, placing a gentle hand on Jon's shoulder and turning him to face him. He places a hand on Jon's cheek and wipes away his tears, almost smiling at the way he leans into the contact, but holding it back given the situation. 

"It's okay, Jon. Can you stand up for me? We need to get you cleaned up." Martin explains calmly. At that, Jon pulls away from Martin and stands up quickly.

"N-no! I-I'll clean everything u-up, it's m-my fault. Y-you shouldn't have to clean up a-after me-" Jon rambles through small hiccuping breaths. Martin takes a step closer to him. 

"Jon, it's not your fault, it was just an-" Martin bites his his lip, realizing Jon might not be too fond of the childish nature of the word "accident" in this situation, but based on the small whine that escapes Jon, he seems to know what Martin was going to say anyway. "It's okay." He decides to say, taking another step closer. "Just let me take care of you, okay?" 

Jon gives in. He still feels an urge in the back of his mind to do everything himself, an instinctual feeling that he doesn't deserve help or care. But a stronger desire wants so badly to just let himself be taken care of, and he knows Martin will do just that.

"Can I hug you?" Martin asks. Jon takes a step back from him.

"I-I'll get you all wet..." Jon responds, trying his best not to sound as pathetic as he feels.

"I care more about helping you feel better than I do about getting a little wet." Martin opens his arms, looking to Jon with a soft, welcoming expression.

That's enough to convince Jon. He closes the gap between them, wrapping his arms around Martin and clutching the back of his jumper. And Martin doesn't pull away, or make a sound of disgust, or anything like that. He just wraps his arms around Jon in return. Martin moves his hand up and down Jon's spine, shushing him gently whenever he lets out another embarrassed whine against Martin's chest. He's not crying anymore, that's good, Martin thinks. 

Martin waits for Jon to pull away, which unsurprisingly takes some time. Jon needs comfort right now, after all, and it's to be expected that he'd take as much as he can get. Even as Jon pulls away, he whines in such a way that indicates he doesn't actually want to let go. The contact was calming, and losing it only made him all the more conscious of his current situation. 

Jon tugs at the fabric of his trousers, trying to no avail to keep the damp and cooling fabric from clinging to his skin. Martin coos sympathetically.

"Alright love, let's get you cleaned up." Martin wraps an arm around Jon's shoulder and guides him to their bathroom. 

The two strip and climb into the far too small shower together. It's intimate, but they certainly don't mind. Martin gently wipes Jon down with a washcloth, while his free arm wraps around torso. He's pressing small, affirming kisses along his jaw, down his neck, and along his shoulders. Jon let's himself relax against the touch. He could be mortified later, but for now, he felt safe in Martin's care.

"There you go," Martin says as Jon seems to visibly relax. He presses a few kisses to his collarbone. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

Jon's mind goes a bit fuzzy for the next few minutes. Everything is just a swirl of kisses and hot water and very distant discomfort. It isn't until the water is switched off and Jon feels a sudden jolt of cold air hit him that everything clears up, and the discomfort makes it's way back to the front of his mind. He doesn't mention it. Martin is being kind enough to take care of him after _that_ , he didn't need to hear Jon's self deprecating thoughts on the situation.

The two stumble to their bedroom, both wrapped in towels. Jon sits on the edge of their bed as Martin rifles through their closet. He eventually hands Jon a pair of grey sweatpants that Jon always had to tighten the drawstring on to fit his small frame, and a jumper that was definitely Martin's, but Jon wore far more often than he did. 

The two get dressed in silence. It's almost as soon as Jon finishes dressing that Martin notices him seemingly trying to sneak out of their bedroom. 

"Jon? What are you doing?" Martin questions. Jon just freezes. He wasn't exactly being subtle about trying to leave, as there wasn't much way he really could've been, but he still seemed surprised by Martin stopping him.

"I... Going to start cleaning?" Jon says hesitantly.

"Love, I'm gonna take care of that, remember?" Martin reminds gently, resting his hands on Jon's shoulders. He can tell Jon is getting flustered.

"I- yes but you shouldn't have to do all of it. I could help, at least." Jon frowns at Martin's expression, seeing that he hasn't convinced him at all. " 's my mess, I should be held responsible..." He mumbles as he averts his gaze. Martin just shakes his head.

"I'll handle it, okay?" Martin guides Jon back to the bed. "I'll be quick, and then you're getting some well earned cuddles." He presses a quick kiss to Jon's forehead and then leaves the room.

Jon curls in on himself and lets out a shakey sigh. He knows Martin doesn't mind doing this for him, and he knows he should be okay letting him. But he can't help feeling like he should be the one cleaning everything up. It was ingrained in him, after all. And as much as he wanted to undo this particular line of thinking, much like Martin had helped him undo many other harmful habits he had, he could only hope it wouldn't become a common enough problem that he would even be able to change how it made him feel.

Before he can spiral too far, Martin is back, giving him that soft and comforting smile that was so utterly Martin as to make Jon's heart melt at the sight of it. If nothing else worked, that smile could always make Jon feel better. Martin crawls onto his side of the bed, wrapping his arms around Jon's waist. Jon turns to nuzzle against Martin's chest. One of Martins hands comes up to play with Jon's hair.

"Jon? Can we talk about what happened?" Martin asks cautiously, his tone making it clear that Jon can say no if he really wants to.

Jon sighs. He knows they _should_ talk about it, but that doesn't really make it any easier, does it? Still hiding his face in Martin's jumper, he nods and mumbles a small "yes".

Martin hums to himself, as if in thought of what he should say. "Why didn't you say anything? Or just get up to go?" He asks. Jon turns just enough that his face isn't buried in Martin's jumper. If he has to explain this, he'd rather it he clear enough that he doesn't have to repeat himself.

"Um," He clears his throat slightly. "When I was growing up, my grandmother wouldn't allow me to leave during meals, even if I needed to... y'know." He mumbles the last bit. "Said it was rude. Guess I never really got past that. I knew I was _technically_ allowed to leave, I knew you wouldn't have minded, but..." Jon sighs. "I just _couldn't_."

Martin's giving him that look again, the one lace with sympathy and a tinge of sadness. "That's awful that she did that to you." He removes his hand from Jon's hair and grabs his hand, squeezing it slightly in reassurance. "And she was wrong. It's not rude, it's human." 

Jon nods, because of course he knows that. But knowing something and feeling something are so very different. He knew he could've left, but it felt wrong. So he stayed.

Martin is wearing another expression that Jon is quite familiar with. It's the look he always gets when he's trying to think of a solution for something, and it almost always leaves Jon a bit anxious.

"Just telling you you're allowed to go whenever you need to isn't going to help, is it?" Martin asks. Jon shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. It's ingrained into me. And like I said, I know I'm allowed to. It's more that I wasn't allowing myself to."

Martin is thinking again, humming to himself. "What if I got you to ask me first? Could that help? So then maybe you'll feel like you have explicit permission."

"I rather hope it won't be a problem again, but... I suppose if it happens again, that could potentially help." 

Martin smiles. "Alright. Good." And he tightens his hold on Jon. Jon nuzzles closer in response. He certainly feels much better than he had earlier. Martin just had that power, he supposed.

"Thank you, Martin. For helping, and being so nice, and... yeah."

Martin laughs, sweet and incredibly fond. "Of course, love. Any time."

**Author's Note:**

> Guys I just want more wholesome omo in this fandom, and if no one else will make it then I will.
> 
> However, if you've written any wholesome TMA omo, I have 100% read it and I owe you my life.


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